


Keep the Streets Empty for Me

by Likethewholedamnfire



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucket List, Cancer, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Rollercoaster, Eventual Romance, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Plans For The Future, Slow Burn, Soulmates, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-13 02:17:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Likethewholedamnfire/pseuds/Likethewholedamnfire
Summary: Clarke's cancer has come back.And she's done fighting it.With the months she has left, she decides that each one of her closest friends gets a day. A day to do whatever they want, and she has to say yes.A story of love, hope, loss, and grief, each person in her life tries to remind her why it's worth living, hoping they'll change her mind.Only...she might not be the only who needs reminding.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller, Monty Green/Harper McIntyre, Octavia Blake/Lincoln
Comments: 23
Kudos: 169





	1. Clarke

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me recently, and I had to put it to words. Feedback is always welcome! :) As someone who has personal experience with how cancer can impact your life and those you love, this has helped me process some of my own grief. 
> 
> I would say I hope you enjoy, but it's about to get sad, so here's your warning! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from the 100. I don't own the pictures I used in the collages. I don't own the songs I'm recommending at the start of every chapter. Extra material I've included to share what helps me get into the mindset to write this work. 
> 
> Title of the work taken from 'Keep the Streets Empty for Me' by Fever Ray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Playlist:  
Paralyzed by NF  
Hurts Like Hell by Fleurie  
Beautiful Hell by Adna

When she gets the news, she's at the hospital gym. 

She sees Jackson out the paneled window. He's holding an envelope. 

She slows her jog to a brisk walk, fear mounting in her chest. 

His eyes are sad. 

She doesn't really remember the rest. She'd looked over the scans briefly. Given him a hug. The details of her diagnosis fluttered in and out- _metastasized...stage IV...lungs, skin, kidneys...inoperable...radical treatment plan...Mexico-_ he was giving her the facts. One doctor to another. He knew her well enough that painting the truth any other way wasn't going to do her any favors. She understood the risks, the percentages. The survival rates. She'd recited them countless times to suffering patients. 

She'd continued on with the rest of her shift. Luckily she didn't have any surgeries scheduled, just consults. She'd asked Jackson not to tell anyone yet. She had to weigh her options. She needed time. 

She didn't have it. 

Months. That's how long she had if she didn't pursue treatment. _Months. _

When she got to her car that night, she started driving. Anywhere. Away. Concerned messages flooded her phone. She ignored them.

She'd made it to a beach eventually. Moonlight caressed the gentle waves. She shed her shoes and buried her toes in wet sand. She stared out at the horizon and let her mind drift. Somehow all she felt was calm. She should've been angry. She should've raised her fist to the sky and demanded to know why the universe wasn't fair. What she'd done to deserve this. 

The sun started to ascend. She wished she'd brought her art supplies so she could paint it. 

Suddenly, she felt the weight of a person next to her. They settled themselves in the sand and sighed. They said nothing. 

Her eyes never left the sunrise, but they didn't have to. She knew it was him. 

'How'd you find me?'

'I tracked your phone. O and Raven haven't heard from you.' 

She nodded and leaned against him.

'I went to the hospital,' she felt his shoulders tense. 'I ran into Jackson.'

She didn't look at him. Couldn't. 

Instead, she let him wrap his arms around her. Only then did she realize she was shaking. No, not shaking- sobbing. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her lungs ached with the terrible injustice of it all. She buried her face in his chest and unloaded everything she'd wanted to scream. He kissed the top of her head, rocked her back and forth, let her fall apart at the seams. 

They continued to sit there, long after she finished. The sun had started to set when Bellamy scooped her into his arms and carried her back to his car, laying her gently in the backseat. She remembered watching the blur of trees and roads, of street lamps and stars. 

He brought her to his bed, which smelled of everything good: forest and mint, old books and sunshine. Raven and O brought over clothes from her apartment. Slowly, he'd changed her out of her scrubs and into her favorite sweatpants and T-shirt. He made her drink a glass of water with lemon, how she liked it. And then he tucked her in. She felt the familiar weight of her gravity blanket, and the familiar weight of his body next to hers. He'd curled beside her, draping his arm over her, pulling her tight, his lips light on her neck. He started to recite a Grecian myth, and she gradually let herself be lulled to sleep by the tenor of his voice. 

In the morning, he'd made her crepes and chocolate milk. 

And though he argued against it, she went in for her afternoon shift. She visited with patients, negotiated the terms of her leave, reassigned surgeries. She met with Jackson and went over her scans more thoroughly. Bellamy insisted he be there. He brought her a chai latte and a lemon poppyseed muffin from their favorite, secret coffee shop and watched her swallow every bite. He'd held her hand. 

More tests were required. She spent the following days taking those, and consulting with the surgeons taking over her cases. 

She'd called her mom and Marcus. Bellamy had gotten them takeout from her favorite Indian place in the city. They turned on a history documentary for background noise. She spilled chicken tikka masala on her sweater when she tucked her cold toes beneath his legs. Her mom cried. Marcus cried. They promised to be on the next flight out of D.C. Wells promised the same. They'd see her through this. She protested, but her mom wouldn't hear it. She demanded to know what the treatment plan was. 

Bellamy had looked at her, expectant. She shrugged. 'It's complicated, mom.' 

No one knew what she was planning. Not even Bellamy. 

That Saturday, she announced the news to her friends. Everyone was there. They all wanted to know what the next steps were. 

She took a deep breath. Raven had an arm slung across her shoulders. Octavia patted her thigh. Everyone else crowded in around her, their faces a mixture of fear, anger, and sorrow. 

Bellamy stood protectively off to the side, his arms crossed. She couldn't meet his eyes. 

'I don't want treatment.'

The air in the room grew cold, tense. 

Murphy broke the silence by cursing under his breath. Harper burst out into sobs, stifling them in Monty's neck. Jasper wept on his other shoulder. Lincoln remained stoic and steadfast as always. Raven, Octavia, and Emori exchanged confused glances. Miller looked flustered, but Jackson soothingly rubbed his back. He understood. There was no fighting this. Not without immense pain, months spent in hospitals hooked up to machines. 

No one's reaction could compare to Bellamy's. His back stiffened. He looked incredulous. Before she could explain, he was out the back door, slamming it shut. 

'Guys,' she hushed the onslaught of questions, actual and rhetorical, that followed his exit. 'I only have a few weeks left, months if I'm lucky. I don't want to spend my last days staring at four white walls. I want to be with all of you, making memories.' 

That's when she explained her idea. She wanted to make the most of her last days, spending it with the people she loved most. It was simple: each person got one day. They could plan whatever they wanted, and she had to say yes. If there was anything they had ever wanted to see her do, now was their chance. 

Cancer could take her life, but she'd be damned if it took her legacy. 

She'd decided to let that sink in with the others, and went after Bellamy. 

She found him lying on his back on the trampoline Jasper and Monty had gifted him, Miller, and Murphy one Christmas, looking up at the stars. His brows were furrowed in concentration. He was deep in thought. 

'Mind if I join you?'

He started a little, and then settled back down, realizing who it was. 'Sure.'

A few minutes of silence passed peacefully, the night heavy with words unsaid. 

'I want to be there for you, Clarke,' he turned to look at her finally, dark curls falling into his eyes. He'd been crying. 'But I can't support your decision. I want you to fight. I know it'll be painful, and hard, but selfishly...' he sighed, turning back to the sky. 'I don't think you should give up. Not yet. Not when you have so much left to live for. For God's sake, Clarke, you're only thirty two. What about having a family? You've always wanted a family.' 

She smiled softly, glancing up at the windows behind them, lined with bickering shadows. 'I have one.' 

He shook his head, but could see that arguing with her right now was pointless. He'd learned to pick his battles carefully. Taking her into his arms, he placed a kiss against her hair. 'Okay Clarke, okay. I'll go along with it for now, because I want you to be happy. But don't think I'm not going to spend the next few weeks trying to change your mind.' 

She laughed into his shirt. 'I'm counting on it.' 


	2. Jasper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Playlist:  
Hell or High Water by Billy Raffoul
> 
> Enjoy the pieced-together inspiration board. I'm going to try to post ones for each chapter, of images and quotes that helped inspire the story.

It'd been a whirlwind of a week. 

She spent most of it with her patients, as a visitor. She'd officially quit her job, and the whole hospital had been invited to her goodbye party. 

Afternoon stretched to evening. There'd been board games, barbecue, and even a bouncy house in the parking lot. It was like one big birthday party, with streamers, balloons, and entirely too much cake. Something about watching all of her patients run around, laughing, spraying each other with silly string, frosting on their faces, tugged at her heart strings. She'd done the right thing, deciding to be a pediatric surgeon. It wasn't easy, but looking back, she'd have done it all over again. 

She tried not to think about the children she wouldn't get to save. 

The kids had demanded story time. It'd become regular tradition for Clarke to read to her patients, before their surgeries and throughout their recoveries. Whenever she could spare a few minutes. They always liked the funny voices she did. She planned to keep doing it for as long as she felt up to it, which, according to her scans, wasn't going to be for exceedingly long.

She tried not to think about it

This time, she decided to read _The Little Prince. _Madi, one of her youngest cancer patients, crawled happily into her lap. She smiled to herself every time she heard a giggle. 

As a thank-you to all the nurses who served on her floor, she'd ordered personalized scrubs. Everyone got a set in their favorite color, with Clarke's favorite saying in cursive on the breast pocket: 

_ Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving. _

She'd also decided to pay off all the medical bills of her current patients. She made sure their surgeries and aftercare were completely covered with the hospital’s finance department.

It was the least she could do with the money her father left her. She'd planned to use it to buy a house, raise a family, and someday retire, but this felt right. 

Her fellow surgeons really outdid themselves: they dedicated one of the operating rooms in the pediatric wing in her name. She'd never felt more humbled. They promised there'd be an official ceremony, with a red ribbon to cut, later on. 

Clarke hoped she would get to see it.

That's how it was now. Hoping she'd be granted just a little bit more time. A little bit more life. 

Her mom and Marcus had flown out and we're staying in a hotel a few blocks from her. Marcus argued he could handle his political image out there for a few weeks, but would need to commute occasionally. Her mom fortunately didn't have another charity gala for six months. This was a planning period for her, which she argued could be done from anywhere (preferably from her daughter’s bedside). Wells had a few more things to wrap up in D.C., but had stock-piled vacation days, so would join her soon. She couldn't wait to see him. 

They all tried to make her see reason when they heard she was refusing treatment. But no one fought harder than Bellamy. 

Right now, it was just small things. Taking her to the movies (something she'd always done with her dad). Hiking. Beach trips. Reservations at all of her favorite restaurants. Little reminders of the things she'd miss out on, things she'd grown to love. Things, he'd argued, she didn't have to say goodbye to yet. 

She knew as the weeks carried on, he'd get more creative (and aggressive). But for now, she allowed herself to enjoy this time. She made sure not to take anything or anyone for granted. 

Like today. The first of her 'friend dates.'

She'd requested that Jasper be the first. Knowing him, he'd have something extreme in mind, and down the line she wasn't sure how she'd start to feel. 

In true Jasper fashion, he'd kept everything a secret. At 10:38pm the night before, just as her and Bellamy were finishing a pizza and an episode of _Planet Earth_, snuggled into her couch, she'd received vague instructions designed to 'throw her off the scent.' 

The last line read: _Be ready for anything. _

Bellamy glanced at the message over her shoulder and chuckled, tipping his beer at her. 'Good luck.'

The most surprising was the early wake-up call. At 6:45am, she heard a coded knock on her door. Clarke was used to early mornings because of her job, so was already awake and showered. It was a miracle if Jasper, who worked the night shifts at a 24-hr pot shop, answered a text before noon. 

'Jasper, hi-'

'Shhhhhhh!' He put a finger to her lips. 'They could be listening.' 

He ran over to her stereo and started blasting Whitney Houston. That drew O and Raven's attention: one shuffled in, yawning, and the other had a baseball bat slung across her shoulders. 

'What the hell-'

Raven clicked off the stereo angrily and whirled on poor Jasper, who cowered behind Clarke, using her as a shield. 

Clarke noticed, as O flicked on the kitchen light, that he was dressed in head to toe black, with a ski mask hiding his normal rumpled, shaggy hair. He looked ready to rob a bank. 

'Look, Jas, I know I have to say yes to everything, but that doesn't include breaking the law. Or helping you hide a body.' 

'No, no, no- it's nothing like that,' he shoved a backpack into her arms. 'Here, change into this, and then I'll explain.'

She laughed. The contents of the bag were black, too.

'I'm going back to bed,' Raven rolled her eyes and leaned the baseball bat against the couch. 'No more of that,' she waved at the stereo. 

'Have fun,' O scratched her head sleepily and returned to her room with a carton of ice cream.

Clarke changed dutifully into the black clothes Jasper brought in the bathroom, which included a ski mask of her own. As she was slipping her hands into the pair of gloves, a note slid under the door. She picked it up. 

_ Turn on the shower. _

She laughed again and did as instructed. As hot steam filled the room, there was a knock. She opened the door to let him in. 

'So, what's with all the procedure? And who exactly is supposed to be listening to us?' 

'The government. They can't know what we're up to.' Jasper slipped something out of his back pocket and unfolded it. 'We have to report here at 0900 hours. From here on out, you'll be known as Agent Bond, or 007. You know, cause you're brave and suave and shit. I'm Agent Bong, or 420.' 

'Bond and Bong?' She couldn't help but laugh. 

He handed her a walkie talkie. 'We can talk to each other on these.' They were blue and had dinosaurs on them. 

She looked down at the paper in his hand. It was a map, depicting a small town that was a bit of a drive from here. 'Agent Bong, this is Agent Bond, over,' she played along and whispered into the radio. 'What is our mode of transport for this mission? Am I driving?' (Jasper's license was suspended after his most recent fender bender a few weeks ago, which totaled his car). 

Jasper had a smile big enough to rival any kid on Christmas. He giggled gleefully as she assumed her role, hunching her shoulders over the map as if somehow someone was watching them. In the middle of her bathroom. At six in the morning.

'This is Agent Bong, over. That's just it-we have to wing it. They could be tracking us.' 

Clarke could argue this was possibly the most insane undertaking she'd ever agreed to willingly, but she found herself saying instead: 'Roger that.'

They boarded the bus across the street from Clarke's apartment. As they headed away from the city, Jasper laid out their mission in greater detail. They were rogue CIA secret agents on the run from the US government. Fishing around in his backpack, he pulled out a flash-drive (shaped like a platypus) and claimed that all of the government’s confidential files had been downloaded onto it. Their goal was to make it to a place where they could safely upload it to the public domain. It shouldn’t have surprised Clarke, Jasper was a major conspiracy theorist after all (aliens were real, the moon landing was fake, etc.), but he’d really ran with her idea. It made her wonder what the others would make her do. She couldn’t wait.

While they were on the bus, they huddled close together and theorized about the identities of the people around them. Clarke wasn’t sure they were going to make it to their destination, but it didn’t matter. Trying to determine who could be out to get them, with their heads low and knees curled up against the seats in front of them, was the most fun she’d had in a long time. It made her feel like a kid again.

And that’s what Jasper was best at. He made you forget your worries and seize the moment. His imagination was boundless. Any situation could be turned into something fun and silly. She loved that about him. She loved him.

She was going to miss him.

They switched buses a few times, until they were finally out of the city. Every time they were dropped off, Jasper made them pull out the Nerf guns he packed and hide behind any nearby sign, bench, or storefront, whistling the _Mission Impossible_ theme song. People stared, but Clarke laughed them off. It was part of the day. She had to say yes, no matter how ridiculous it was.

Just when she thought that the entire day was going to consist of them hopping on different buses, Jasper ushered her into a building, ‘Quick, go, go! Before they see you.’

The sign read: _Adventure Skydiving. _

She should’ve known.

‘What have you gotten me into?’ she shouted over the drone of the plane. They were currently 14,000 ft in the air and preparing to jump.

‘You said anything we wanted!’ He slipped on a pair of goggles, looking the part of mad scientist. ‘Come on, you’ve faced much worse!’

He wasn’t wrong.

Taking deep breaths, she watched as his instructor double-checked their straps. ‘You ready?’

Jasper nodded eagerly and threw one last thumbs-up to Clarke. ‘Don’t let the bad guys get you!’

And with that, he toppled out of the back of the plane.

All she could hear was a blood-curdling scream as he hurtled toward the ground.

‘You ready?’ her instructor asked.

Clarke gulped. He was talking about throwing herself out of a plane, of course, but for some reason, time seemed to stop. _Was she ready? _

A sob clawed at her throat. _No. _

She didn’t want to face this all again. She didn’t want to go through the pain, the heartbreak, the loss. She didn’t want to have to say goodbye. It was too soon, and it wasn’t fair, and there was so much left she wanted to do.

No. She wasn’t ready.

Instead, she nodded. Because at least she was certain. Back then, they didn’t know if she’d make it.

Now, she was sure. She was going to die.

‘Okay…3…2…1!’

Clarke felt the wind whip past her, and her stomach drop. There wasn’t enough air for her to scream. So she focused on the sun beating down on her face, and the way clouds felt, wet and wispy, between her fingers. And then she was just…flying. Floating. Weightless.

It was the most amazing thing she’d ever felt.

She decided, right then, that’s how she wanted to feel for the rest of her life. Not scared. Not angry.

At peace.

They spent the rest of the day evading the ‘bad guys.’ Monty picked them up on his lunch break and drove them to the diner where Jasper usually ordered too many pancakes at 2am after a drunken night-out. There, Jasper made her go to the bathroom and put on another disguise, wig included. She looked like a clown. They snuck out using aliases. Clarke made sure to tip their waitress well.

They walked to a skate park where Jasper usually hung out with his parkour friends. He spent the afternoon teaching her different moves. It was something he was incredibly passionate about, and oddly good at, and it seemed to mean a lot to him that Clarke was willing to learn it. They made tons of videos of her failed attempts. The playground nearby offered excellent equipment to jump off of. She never quite got the hang of it, and had more bruises than she could count, but she was also fairly sure she’d never laughed in her life as much as she had watching Jasper yell ‘Parkour!’ around a bunch of confused toddlers. He fit right in. 

Breathless, Jasper’s head slumped against her stomach as they fell into a pile on the ground by the swings two hours later.

For a few moments, they lost themselves to the sounds of children playing nearby. 

'Why don't you want treatment?' 

His voice was small, trembling. It lacked its usual playfulness. 

Clarke stilled. 

She looked down at him. His eyes were wide, searching. 

Biting her lip, she looked off into the distance. An older girl helped a younger one up to the slide. She watched as they sat down together and pushed themselves forward, eyes closed, hands out. 

'You know, when I was up there,' she pointed to the sky. 'All I could think about was how good it felt...not to feel. I wasn't scared, or angry, or worried. I was alive.' She sighed, taking his hand in hers. 'I don't want to spend this time I've been gifted feeling the bad.' 

'But what if you could get more time?' 

'I'm already borrowing it,' she gave him a soft smile. 

Her heart broke as he nodded quietly. 

'Thank you,' she squeezed his hand. 'For today.' 

'It's not over yet!' 

'What do you mean?' 

‘We haven't finished our mission!' 

Clarke raised her eyebrows. For someone who lived life spontaneously, he’d put a lot of thought into this day.

‘Come on,’ he helped her up.

She dusted herself off, glancing around when she heard a familiar voice call her name. Octavia waved wildly from the front seat of Bellamy’s car. He was in the driver’s seat, grinning broadly. That is- until he got a closer look and noticed the cuts and bruises.

He was out of the car in seconds.

‘What happened? Are you okay?’ His hand flew up instinctively to dab at the blood that trickled down her forehead. She nodded, biting her lip and sharing a secret look with Jasper, who climbed into the backseat with Raven and Murphy.

‘What the hell did you two do?’ Raven asked incredulously, taking in their black, tattered clothes. Clarke slid in next to her.

‘Well…’ she huffed a laugh and proceeded to describe their adventurous day. Jasper piped in with details, unable to control his excitement. She felt Bellamy’s eyes on her in the rear-view mirror. How wide they got when she mentioned skydiving.

‘What?! No way!’ Octavia pouted. ‘Next time I want to go!’

Charged with her story, the whole car buzzed with energy and happy banter as they unloaded themselves outside Jasper’s last stop.

Laser tag.

‘Let’s go, let’s go!’ He grabbed Clarke’s hand and yanked her inside.

They split into two teams when the others joined them (except for Emori, who got called in to bartend, and Lincoln, who was working a late-night function at the gallery).

Clarke and Jasper had been nominated the leaders of the ‘good guys’ (by Jasper). On their team: Octavia, Monty, and Murphy. Bellamy became the lead villain and, according to Jasper, represented the entire evil U.S. government, Raven, Harper, Jackson and Miller being CIA agents. 

Jasper pulled Clarke aside as everyone suited up. 'If we’re victorious, that means we successfully uploaded the data and took down the government. But if we fail-' he motioned with his finger across his throat. 'This is what this day has been all about. We can do this.' He winked.

'You're so going down,' Raven poked Murphy with her gun.

'Watch your back, Reyes.'

Bellamy wandered over to her as she finished hooking on her pack.

'Wow,' Clarke tugged on one of his straps. 'Evil villain is a good look on you.'

'Thanks.'

'So what drove you to it? Wait, no. Let me guess. You found out you aren't actually the fairest of them all.'

'Something like that,' his hand found the nape of his neck, something he only did when he was nervous. 

'You okay? Worried a girl's gonna kick your ass?'

His eyes searched her face for a moment, and then he sighed, 'Yeah, we'll see about that.'

He shuffled away. Something was on his mind, but she didn’t get a chance to ask. 

They were escorted into a maze of glow-in-the-dark structures and hallways. Jasper and Clarke’s team stationed themselves expertly on the second level. Octavia was an excellent shot and managed to get Jackson out almost instantly. Clarke thought she saw Bellamy’s form disappear around a corner, but got distracted by a fleeing Monty, who practically ran into her. He shouted something about being pursued over his shoulder. 

Suddenly, Harper appeared, smirking like a sly fox. 

‘Don’t worry, I’m not after you,’ She winked and continued after her boyfriend, unsurprisingly agile. 

Clarke took a few shots at a shadow that resembled something of Raven’s ponytail. It flashed across her vision a few times, but it was hard to tell if it was actually her, or a trick of the light. 

Her and Murphy found themselves back to back at one point, pinned down by Miller. He was able to evade Murphy’s aim by a front roll (being a police officer gave him an unfair advantage agility-wise) and nabbed him in the back. 

Saluting her with his gun, he shouted upon exiting, ‘Just make sure you get Reyes for me!’ 

She’d lost track of Miller, and still hadn’t seen any sign of Bellamy. 

Harper finally shot Monty, only to get gunned down by Octavia from her sniper’s nest. Jasper got taken down shortly after by Raven. 

‘It’s down to you, 007!’ 

She clenched a fist around the barrel of her gun. She didn’t want to disappoint him. 

Bellamy seemed to have figured out Octavia’s trick after she bagged Miller. 

That left her against two of the most ruthless opponents: Raven and Bellamy. 

Out of sheer luck, or an act of God, Raven was crouched behind an orange block, her back to Clarke. She was easy enough prey. 

‘Glad to know you can keep your word,’ she said, referring to Murphy’s request. ‘I'll be sure to let him know who he has to thank. Now, go get him.’ 

It’d only been maybe twenty minutes, but she felt like she’d been circling the course and still hadn’t seen him. It was a testament to how well they knew each other, or how much they thought alike. They knew each other’s blind spots. 

After a few minutes of what felt like aimless wandering, Clarke found him waiting for her on the second level. 

‘Any last words?’ she smirked, aiming her gun at his chest. 

She realized too late that her phrasing had struck a chord. 

'Yeah, actually,' he took a deep breath. 'I want you to get treatment.'

'Bellamy...'

'Clarke....please.'

Jasper hung excitedly on her arm. 'We did it! Whoo! We won! Take that, Big Brother!' 

She laughed, enjoying his warmth. They'd all congratulated Clarke on the final shot, and after a few rounds of racing games in the arcade and a few slices of pizza, decided to call it a night. She could feel her own exhaustion creep along her vision. It'd been a long day. 

Bellamy drove them home, silent. 

Her, Octavia, and Raven piled around their kitchen, digging into bowls of late-night cereal. 

'So,' Raven said through a mouthful of Lucky Charms. 'You never said how you scored the winning kill.' 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the feedback! :)
> 
> I'll admit, writing this has been harder than I thought, and I've had to dig pretty deep. Luckily, this chapter was more fun! I really tried to nail Jasper's fun-loving essence. I figured if he got an entire day to do whatever he wanted- his imagination wouldn't let that go to waste ;) 
> 
> I know the ending was pretty abrupt, but I figured it was more fun not knowing how Clarke ~won~. (And maybe...just maybe...a future chapter will include a flashback scene that fills in the gaps ;) keep a look out!)
> 
> All feedback is welcome and greatly appreciated!
> 
> Clarke's favorite quote is by J.K. Rowling.


	3. Wells/Harper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this update took me so long! Life and work have (unfortunately) a habit of getting in the way. Hope you enjoy! :)
> 
> Chapter Playlist:   
Waves by Dean Lewis (Acoustic)   
Hard Act to Follow by Billy Lockett (for Clarke's drunk call)

The days to her grew shorter.

She tried to make them last.

It was like a dark cloud had surfaced on her horizon, thick and roiling black. Angry.

She didn’t feel sick. Not yet. But she could sense it somewhere deep. Each time she coughed. Every step that felt sluggish.

The day with Jasper had helped her forget. She got to pretend she was someone else.

She wasn’t sure he’d ever know how much that meant.

She regaled the adventure to Wells on the drive home from the airport. He’d wrapped her in the biggest hug as soon as he stepped out of the shuttle, smelling of mint and fresh, pressed shirts. As they grabbed his luggage, he explained he’d found a temporary apartment not far from hers. He planned on commuting for the next few weeks when necessary, like Marcus. But for this week, he was all hers. He’d been saving up vacation time to visit. No phone, no laptop, he promised.

It helped. He helped. He was home. Warmth. Familiarity. A piece of her. More than family.

They’d grown up together, next-door neighbors with windows that faced each other. Inseparable. They walked to school together every day, played in sandboxes, talked into radios beneath covers. They took each other to prom, wearing different shades of orange but still trying to match. Wells meant movie marathons in basements, sneaking sips of alcohol from closed cabinets, hot-boxing in bathrooms. He was her first kiss at eight. The first person she cried in front of that wasn’t her mom or dad. The first person she came out to.

The first person she told about her break-up with Lexa. About her dad’s car accident.

About her first diagnosis. 

She really couldn’t remember life without Wells.

They’d made jokes, when they were younger, about what they’d say.

‘I’ll say nice things. Mostly,’ he’d punched her arm lightly.

‘Oh yeah? Well just wait. I’m doing a slam poem at yours.’

‘I’ll make sure they only play hard metal.’

‘There will be puppets.’

‘And we’ll use your junior yearbook photo. So everyone remembers you with a lip ring.’

‘You wouldn’t’ she’d laughed when he nodded solemnly.

Having Wells here was just what she needed. She dragged him to every beach. He’d never so much as touched sand before. He didn’t like it.

More time with Wells meant less with Bellamy.

It’d only been a few days since laser tag, but the two hadn’t exchanged more than a couple of words. When she bothered Octavia about it, she assured her he was just giving her space to spend time with Wells. Everyone knew Bellamy and Clarke had a habit of orbiting each other, getting so caught up in the other’s gravity that little else mattered outside of it. According to his sister, he was backing off, letting her be with the only other person who knew her as intimately.

Clarke knew him better than that.

There’d only been a handful of times throughout their friendship that Clarke and Bellamy had avoided each other. When they first met. During the ensuing animosity. When Clarke dated Finn. When Bellamy dated Echo. And seemingly now.

_ ‘Clarke…please.’ _

The words still echoed around her.

They had stood facing each other, both still wearing ridiculous gear that lit up neon green.

_ ‘Bellamy…’ _

_ ‘No, okay?’ He ran his hand through his hair, frustrated. ‘You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just…pretend that everything’s okay. Clarke, you’re…you’re  _ dying. _And you…you don’t just get to run around hurting yourself and risking the little amount of time you have left. Sky-diving? Seriously?’_

_ ‘Hey,’ she’d warned, ‘That was part of the deal. I have to say yes-’ _

_ ‘Fine. Then get treatment.’ _

_ Her breath caught in her throat. ‘It’s not your day,’ she said quietly.  _

_ ‘God,’ he looked at her incredulously. ‘Sometimes you’re so fucking selfish.’  _

_ Tears threatened. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. ‘Oh? And what would you have me do? Lie in a hospital bed? Lose all my hair? Become so weak from the chemicals they put in my body that I can’t even walk by myself? Or use the bathroom? And then die anyway, surrounded by four white walls?’ _

_ ‘At least you’d die fighting.’ _

_ ‘No. I’ve been fighting. And I’m done. If that makes me selfish, then fine. I’m selfish. I want this for myself. These days, I’m seizing them. Sky-diving? Sign me up. I’m not going to wait around for the cancer to kill me.’ _

_ ‘You’re just going to get yourself killed some other way in the process.’ _

_ ‘I don’t expect you to understand.’ _

_ ‘Oh, I understand perfectly. You’re scared. You’ve already given up. And you want all of us to sit by and entertain you.’ He looked to his feet. ‘You didn’t even ask. You just expected us to accept this.’  _

_ ‘Because it’s my decision.’  _

_ ‘That affects the people you care about! And who care about you! You’re acting like you’re all alone in this when you’re  _ not.’

_ A single tear slipped down her cheek. The air brewed between them, but neither one wanted to break the silence. Finally, she raised her gun, aiming it at his chest. Anti-climatically, the vest sounded out as it powered down.  _

Game over_ her eyes read as she stormed past him. _

She’d shucked her armor quickly, ducking to the bathroom before her friends could see. Once she collected herself, she joined them at their table. Bellamy was there, stoic. He didn’t look at her as she walked up. Everyone blamed his bad mood on being a sore loser. Clarke feigned light-heartedness, but refused to join in their taunting.

They hadn’t really spoken since.

Wells’ arrival was the perfect distraction. Almost.

She’d picked up her phone several times, clicking on his name, thumbs hovering over her keyboard, ready to type out an apology, a plea for forgiveness, a funny observation. But Wells always pulled her back to reality. She decided she owed him her attention. These days were for him, not for worrying about Bellamy. She did that enough as it was.

Plus, why should she be the one to reach out? What’d he said had really hurt her. She tried to look at it from his perspective, though, and could understand why he was so upset. If he was sick, she’d want him to get treatment, too. And she’d say or do about anything to convince him.

She knew she wasn’t alone in this. But she _was _the only one dying. Surely she got to be a little selfish?

His argument had her conflicted, and all she wanted to do was lose herself in her friendships. She didn’t want to think about the later, just the now.

Wells left at the end of the week for a conference, promising he’d be with her again soon. Though she’d miss him, the timing couldn’t have been better. Harper was up next, and for her day, she wanted Clarke all to herself.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ She’d asked her friend over mimosas at their favorite brunch spot.

Harper’s eyebrows waggled suspiciously. ‘Well, next, we’re going to the animal shelter. They’re looking for caregivers, and I signed us up for a shift. We’ll get to walk and play with all the puppies.’

Clarke had trouble containing her excitement. They were going to spend the whole afternoon snuggling shelter animals. It had Harper written all over it.

Besides watching Wells complain as he tiptoed through sand and Jasper dart not-so-discreetly between buildings like a secret agent, Clarke wasn’t sure she’d laughed as much as she had, her face buried in the rolls of a Basset Hound’s neck, since she was diagnosed. They cleaned cages, served meals, and walked some of the dogs around the block. By the end of their shift, Clarke was ready to adopt every single animal she’d touched. They were eager, and precious, and she wished she could do more for them. She’d never had a pet before, her mother never allowed it, so any quality time she got was priceless.

She made a mental note to donate some of her father’s money to the shelter, so they could find them all good homes.

‘I’m coming back for him,’ Harper pointed to a terrier she’d grown particularly fond of. ‘Monty will have to get over his allergies and make room.’

Clarke threw her head back and linked arms with her friend. ‘I can’t wait to see his reaction.’

They let what was left unsaid hang between them.

_ If.  _ If she got to see his reaction.

‘What’s next?’ Clarke smiled and rested her head on her friend’s shoulder.

Harper had such a generous heart. She was kind, compassionate, and warm, everything one could hope to love about someone. Clarke always felt easy in her presence. She was trustworthy, and had the most empathetic soul of anyone she knew. She’d thought about just confiding in her at first about her diagnosis, when she was scared and unsure of what to do, because as sweet and understanding as she was, Harper took everything in stride, and was always able to find a bright side. Even if she didn’t agree with her decision, she’d never make Clarke feel like she wasn’t doing what was best. And her optimism was infectious. Just being near her made Clarke feel like she was doing the right thing.

It’s also what she needed in light of Bellamy’s confrontation.

‘Well,’ her friend turned towards her eagerly. ‘I decided that all of us desperately need a girl’s night.’

‘Agreed.’

‘I’m going to keep what’s in store a surprise, but let’s just say, I gave Octavia and Raven permission to raid your wardrobe,’ She winked.

Clarke stopped short. She felt her eyes widen, and by her friend’s laugh, she knew she must look terrified. ‘You don’t mean-’

Harper shrugged innocently, continuing towards the parking lot.

‘Harper, I don’t even know if I fit in that anymo-’

Sure enough, _the _dress was laid out on her bed as they arrived home.

‘Oh god,’ she muttered under her breath. It was an impulse buy in college, one Octavia had convinced her she could break hearts in. She’d worn it a few times, to a few parties, and it’d worked wonders on scoring her hook-ups, but now….it was a little much. She wasn’t even sure why she still had it.

The girls were waiting for her, the ingredients for Harper’s famous margaritas spread out on the kitchen counter.

‘Monty and Jasper _think _their moonshine is what does everyone in,’ she’d scoffed the night she first introduced everyone to them. ‘Little do they know he learned his way around alcohol from _me.’ _

While she mixed drinks, Raven, Octavia, and Emori threw the dress at her, having already changed into their outfits. Raven went for her typical sleek, sexy look- slender ponytail, tight, black jeans, stilettos, and a low-cut top with smoky make-up. She didn’t have to try ridiculously hard to look good-she was effortlessly edgy. Octavia always liked to push the boundaries, so she opted for a sparkly crop-top (which Clarke would _generously _label a bra, if that), with a leather skirt and thigh-high white boots, channeling her inner disco queen. Emori rocked a black jumpsuit that left little to the imagination, leaving Clarke _the _dress, emerald green, sequined, and entirely too tight.

‘There is no way in hell-’ she emerged from her bedroom, pulling on the hem, clinging to whatever decency she might have left, and was greeted with whistles and hollers. ‘No, okay, I’m not wearing this.’

‘Oh Clarke, come on!’ Raven argued, yanking on her arm as she tried to retreat. ‘You look _hot!_ Look at your cleavage! You don’t really care what anyone thinks, anyway, do you?’

‘No! But I’ll care if all they remember of me after I’m gone is seeing my ass split this dress open!’

Everyone grew quiet at that. Clarke didn’t mean to bring it up. She hated herself for it, hated how there was always this _thing _in the air now, circling like a vulture.

Octavia finally broke the silence. Which she was grateful for, until she saw that wild grin, the one she knew always preceded trouble with the Blakes. ‘Well, it is Harper’s day, so…’

Harper approached her with a large margarita, smiling softly. ‘Clarke, we are going out tonight. And you have to wear that dress.’

Why did she think that giving her friends this much power over her was a good idea?

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

Not that she didn’t have an amazing time tearing up their living room to Emori’s _Girl Power_ playlist, the same one she shared with her after breaking up with Lexa. And not that it wasn’t a blast trying to figure out who should order the Uber without revealing to Clarke where they were going, all of them a few margaritas in. But once they pulled up to their destination, Clarke had to choke back a mix of shock, horror, and laughter.

Because Harper, of all people, had planned for them to go to a strip club.

‘What are we doing here?’ Clarke whirled on her friend. She’d thought they’d just swing by their usual haunts, the Dropship, maybe Ton DC if the crowd wasn’t too crazy.

‘Surprise!’ Harper snapped a photo of Clarke's face with the Polaroid she’d brought for the occasion. ‘One for the scrapbooks.’

They all stumbled excitedly out of the car, everyone gasping for air from laughing too hard at Clarke’s bewildered expression.

‘Okay, before we go in,’ Harper gathered them together and produced a small bag she’d somehow managed to smuggle out of the apartment. ‘Jasper gave me an idea. Since he made you do a little role-play, I thought I would, too.’

That’s when she pulled out a white veil.

Clarke never wanted to disappear more than she did in that moment.

‘This is your bachelorette party!’ She passed around bright pink sashes for everyone else, all with various bridesmaid puns and slurs, and dubbed herself the maid of honor with a crown. Then, she carefully placed the veil in Clarke’s tousled, blonde waves, fluffing it a little to perfectly frame her face. ‘I just figured, since we won’t get to throw you an actual one-’ everyone winced at that, but tried their best not to show it ‘- you deserve to have a special memory like this.’

‘Thank you,’ Clarke squeezed her hand gently. It was thoughtful, really. The hours she’d spent with Octavia when they were growing up planning their weddings, and what they were going to do for their bachelorette parties, and who was going to be there…she hadn’t realized until now that this would be one of the things she’d miss out on. It was like Bellamy said…she had so much left…but no, she wasn’t going to bring him into this. Not right now.

Wrapping her friend in a tight hug, the other girls formed around her.

‘Alright, alright, enough of the sap,’ Raven broke away first and blew on a penis-shaped party popper. When Clarke shot Harper a questioning look, she just shrugged. ‘Let’s party!’

‘That was…’ Even Octavia was at a loss for words, which spoke volumes. ‘Wow.’

They ended up at the Dropship after the show. Sliding into their usual booth, Raven left to get them all glasses of water and what Clarke suspected was another round of tequila shots. They’d seen some pretty fantastic routines. At one point, because she was the ‘bride-to-be’ (and because she saw Harper sneak off to bribe his manager), a ‘Doctor’ pulled Clarke onstage and proceeded to perform ‘open-heart’ surgery on her. And if she wasn’t already embarrassed enough, there were pictures.

‘I can’t believe we did that,’ Emori shook her head and excused herself to the bathroom. Octavia offered to join to fix her lipstick, leaving Harper and Clarke alone for the first time since that afternoon.

‘Did you have fun?’ She asked sincerely.

‘Harper, I don’t think I’ve had quite that much fun in my _life. _I mean, I’m probably going to be covered in coconut oil and body glitter for, well, _forever, _but seriously, thank you.’

She opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by Raven placing the drinks on the table. ‘We have GOT to dance! This is my favorite song!’ Pulling Harper out of the booth, she reached for Clarke’s hand.

She waved them off. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll catch up. I just got to…take care of something first.’

‘Okay, but don’t take too long!’ Her friend’s ponytail was already disappearing into the thriving bodies and pulsing lights.

Clarke sighed happily. Closing her eyes, she let the thrum of the music, the cool feel of patched leather on her thighs and back, the sweat that glistened on her forehead from the heat in the room, the buzz of alcohol coursing through her veins, all of it, she let it all soak in. She felt alive. She felt loved.

She wished he was here.

Her eyes shot open. Scrambling into her purse, she pulled out her phone and clicked his name without thinking. Octavia and Emori returned, and she motioned for them to watch the booth while she stepped outside. The rush of cold air stung, and she remembered how much bare skin she was actually showing.

She hit call.

Leaning on a wall in the alleyway, she listened as the other end rang. _Fuck. _She hadn’t even glanced at the time. It was almost 3 am. He was asleep.

She listened to his gruff voicemail, curt and deep-throated and so Bellamy that she craved it was longer, just so she could hear more of it. Of him.

She hadn’t meant to leave a message, but realized with a start that it had already beeped, and a few moments of her just breathing heavily like a stalker had passed.

‘Hi,’ her voice sounded small, weak. She cleared her throat. ‘Bellamy, it’s me. Clarke. Um, listen, I know we haven’t really talked since…’ She laughed, then, and shook her head. ‘Look, I’m really drunk. Like, really drunk. And this probably sounds all slurred and ridiculous to you, but I just wanted to say….’

She paused. What did she want to say?

‘I just wanted to say…I…I don’t know. I don’t know what to say anymore, Bellamy. I just…I miss you. A lot. I know that’s not what you want to hear, not really. But…’

‘Clarke?’

She turned and saw Octavia poking her head out, checking in to make sure she was good. She signaled her that she would be right in.

‘Look, I gotta go. But, I want us to be okay. Because I…I…I miss you, so.’ She knew that’s not what she really wanted to say to him. The words clawed at her chest, screaming for release. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t tell him now. Not like this.

Not when she was choosing to leave him.

‘So, you know, when you get the chance, I hope we can talk. Okay. Okay, bye.’

‘You okay?’ Octavia draped an arm around her as they made their way back to the booth.

‘I’m going to be, I think,’ Clarke smiled warmly, grabbed her abandoned shot, and downed it easily. She dragged her friend to the middle of the dance floor and let herself get lost in the sea of everything else.

She could at least savor this for now.


	4. Lincoln Pt. 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writer's block broken (knock on wood) so just for the fun of it, here's another chapter to make up for my absence on here :) 
> 
> Except that this chapter is not so much fun as it is sad, with some deep talks and some real truths. 
> 
> Never be afraid to open up to those you love. If they truly love you, they will understand and listen. Always here if anyone needs an ear or a shoulder. 
> 
> Feedback always appreciated! :)
> 
> Chapter Playlist:  
I Can't Go On Without You by KALEO  
Hurt for Me by SYML  
When You Break by Bear's Den

She was exhausted.

Somehow, the five of them had found themselves stumbling through the streets at 5am, Emori draped in some random man’s jacket they couldn’t place, Octavia missing a shoe, and Raven with a half-empty bottle of whiskey she’d somehow convinced the bartender at TonDC to part with. Clarke couldn’t remember the details, just that her friend had disappeared for a suspicious amount of time to the back, reappearing with marks on her neck. She’d given her a knowing look, and was gifted a middle finger as a reply. They took turns taking swigs, arms draped around shoulders or looped. Harper was in the middle of retelling how she gallantly saved Clarke from a particularly sketchy character who kept trying to sidle up to her on the dance floor. The others were humming along happily.

It’d been a night to rival all others, and Clarke felt electric.

As the sun rose over the harbor, they all took a moment to admire it from the bridge. The city was just starting to wake up, the sound of passing cars growing steadily louder and more rushed.

That same feeling of peace washed over her that she’d felt sky-diving. She felt like she was seeing the world in a way she hadn’t before, and she knew it wasn’t the alcohol still in her system talking. There was the horizon. It was a new day. And she was surrounded by the people she loved.

This is what she wanted to hold onto, to seize and take with her, wherever she went next.

She glanced towards her friends. Emori had taken up station on a nearby bench and was currently acting as the dozing headrest for both Octavia and Harper. Only Raven seemed somewhat still alert. She leaned on the railing next to her and sighed.

‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’

‘Yeah,’ Clarke closed her eyes, felt the warmth of it on her skin.

‘You and I haven’t talked about it yet.’

Clarke swallowed. She peeked at her friend through a half-lidded eye, and turned back towards the sunrise. She let go a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. ‘No, we haven’t.’

‘I love you, you know’ she said after a moment. ‘I’m not really good with stuff like this. Talking about the important shit. But I’m gonna give it a go now, and I’m gonna ask that you hear me out. And then we can just, go on. And we don’t have to talk about it again, if you don’t want to.’

Clarke just nodded. She knew arguing with Raven was pointless, not when she was determined.

They both faced the water. ‘I know you’re the doctor, so you have a better idea of your chances than I do. But even if there was the smallest chance you might make it, that you might finally beat this thing, don’t you think that this-’ she motioned around them, making sure to include their sleeping friends in the background – ‘don’t you think it’s worth fighting for?

‘The truth is, Clarke- I love your idea to spend these last days with us, you know, carpe diem and all that – but you already live like that, anyway. You might not see it, but you make each and every one of us feel loved and special and noticed, all the time. Every day. Not in big, grand gestures like trying parkour or getting grinded on by a stripper,’ – Clarke had to laugh at that – ‘but in the little things. You’re the glue of the group, or whatever. Look, I told you I was bad at being sappy. It’s just- we need you. You listen. You pay attention. You keep us from killing each other. Lord knows that’s how Murphy has lasted this long. And I just….what I’m trying to say is, I would hate to see you spend these days doing all of these things for us, to make us happy, things you think we want, when all we really want is for you to fight so we can keep you.’

Clarke dared to glance over at her then, and saw that her friend was wiping at her eyes, smearing her mascara irreparably. Her words hit. Hard. She felt her chest tighten. She didn’t know what to say.

‘Okay,’ Raven chuckled, her face wet with tears, ‘Rant over.’

Clarke stared at her. After a minute, she moved closer, taking the other woman in her arms. It’s all she could muster. Words wouldn’t form.

They remained like that for what felt like hours, until they heard the others stir behind them, yawning and stretching, murmuring about getting home before Bellamy issued missing persons reports for all of them.

Clarke and Raven laughed at that, and before they pulled away, Clarke made sure to give her a meaningful look and whispered, ‘I can’t make any promises, but I’ll think about it.’

The other nodded understandingly. ‘That’s all I ask.’

_‘Where the hell have you been?’_

They arrived back at their apartment, Emori and Harper in tow, to an incredibly distraught Bellamy pacing their kitchen, hair ruffled, clothes disheveled, dark circles under his eyes. Monty and Miller were there too, both looking like they’d given up trying to console him hours ago, huddled on the couch.

‘What the hell, Bell?’ Octavia looked her brother up and down. ‘I gave you the spare for emergencies.’

‘See,’ Miller mumbled through his hands, rubbing them down his face wearily, ‘I told you they were fine.’ Looking to the girls, he added, ‘This guy almost had me call in the Search and Rescue team. And the SWAT team. And the FBI. Hell, if he had it his way, your faces would be on milk cartons. Now if you’ll excuse me,’ He rose from the couch, slipped on his jacket, and waved, ‘Hope you guys had fun. I’m going back to bed.’

Suddenly, as if they all realized it telepathically, their joke from earlier hit, and they burst out in unified giggles.

‘Blake, you’re too much,’ Raven shook her head as she passed by him, patting him on the shoulder mockingly. She disappeared into her room, throwing everyone a peace sign and shutting the door behind her, Raven-speak for _Do Not Disturb._

‘This isn’t funny,’ he grumbled, pushing up his glasses and crossing his arms. Clarke noticed the way his eyes flitted over her scantily-clad figure, taking in the shape of her dress, how it hugged her curves, the plunge of her neckline, the length of her legs, before meeting her eyes and quickly looking away. She ignored the heat that blossomed in her stomach, and what it meant.

‘None of you could’ve checked your phones?’

‘Dead,’ Octavia shrugged. Harper made a similar motion as she showed off her black screen, sidling up next to Monty. He kissed her forehead tenderly, rubbing circles into the small of her back. Clarke always admired how affectionate they were, without being over-the-top.

Emori had already passed out on the couch, leaving Bellamy to glare at her expectantly. Clarke glanced down at her phone then, which, to be fair, was almost out of battery. There were a few missed calls. Okay, make that seven. Most from Bellamy. One or two from Miller/Monty. Maybe he thought she wouldn’t answer if it was him on the other end, that her drunken voicemail wasn’t sincere.

‘Sorry,’ she smiled sheepishly. He rolled his eyes, ran a hand through his hair.

The tension in the room rose slightly as it grew quiet. Monty and Harper exchanged glances.

‘Well, we’re gonna get going,’ Harper stopped to hug Clarke while Monty roused Emori from the couch. ‘I hope you enjoyed your day.’

‘I did, I really did,’ she returned the warm embrace. ‘Get home safely.’

Once Octavia had raided the kitchen for a makeshift snack, she stalked off to her room, only pausing to glance behind her, ‘If you wake me up with any shouting, so help me God…’

She let the threat dangle in the air.

Clarke was suddenly very aware of how much she _wasn’t _wearing.

‘You want some tea?’ she offered, shifting awkwardly under his gaze. Her feet ached from the heels she’d worn last night, and all she wanted to do was sit down. ‘I’d offer coffee, but I’m afraid if I make any noise, those two might actually kick me out. For real, this time.’

He didn’t say anything, only nodded. His shoulders seemed to relax a little as she made her way to the kitchen, retrieving two mugs. Putting a pot of water on the stove to heat up, she finally turned towards him, palms splayed on the counter, and took a deep breath. ‘Look, I think we need to talk. I don’t know if you got my voicemail last night-’

‘I did.’

‘Oh,’ she bit her lip. Noticed how his eyes tracked the motion. ‘Well, um…mind if I change, then? And then we can sit out on the terrace and…talk?’

‘Sure.’ He’d said it nonchalantly, but something about him was guarded.

‘Okay, then.’

She rested her forehead against her bedroom door once she was safely inside. Took a few deep breaths. Centered herself. Banished all thoughts of the incredibly attractive way his jaw tightened when he got overprotective, or how his white T-shirt, even rumpled, accentuated the muscles underneath, or how his glasses kept slipping to the edge of his nose. None of that was allowed, she told herself. She needed to focus. She didn’t feel that way about him. Couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

Slipping off the dress, however, proved to be too difficult a task on her own. How she’d ever gotten into it in the first place, she didn’t know, only that now she was stuck. After a few minutes of fruitless struggle, she gave up, deciding to sacrifice whatever was left of her dignity.

Storming back out into the kitchen, she turned so that her back was to him, noticing that he’d already started cutting up a fresh lemon for her tea. Just how she liked it. _Damn him._

‘Would you-’ she huffed out in frustration, trying to reach the zipper she knew she couldn’t. ‘Could you-I can’t, it won’t-’

He seemed to understand, and set down his utensils, drying his hands-on a nearby towel. The zipper easily gave way.

‘Thank you,’ she grunted and ran – actually ran – away from him, back to the safety of her bedroom. She chose to believe she’d imagined the way his fingertips lingered for a moment on her skin.

In her favorite sweatshirt and shorts, make-up removed, teeth brushed, and hair in a bun, did she finally decide to emerge again. He was waiting already on the terrace, two cups of tea beside him. There was a glass of water there, too, presumably for her.

She was going to kill him.

She took the mug with her sleeves and breathed in the warm scent of refreshing mint, honey, and lemon. They didn’t speak for a few minutes, just let the silence, which had always been comfortable between them, fester.

‘I don’t want it to keep going like this, Bellamy.’

He looked at her. Blinked. ‘Me either.’

She nodded. At least they could agree on that. It was a starting point, albeit rocky.

‘I’m sorry for what I said,’ he leaned forward in his chair, rested his arms on his knees.

‘Me too.’

‘You shouldn’t be.’

‘I am, though,’ she leaned back in her chair, brought the mug to her lips, let the steam warm her. ‘I am being selfish. I dropped this on all of you, all of a sudden, and didn’t let you have a say in any of it. I expected you to just do it because you cared about me, and it was what I wanted.’

‘Wanted?’ She glanced over at him, and for the first time since she broke the news to him that she wasn’t going to get treatment, he looked hopeful. It broke her heart.

‘What I still want,’ she corrected gently. His face fell, but he tried to hide it.

‘Well, I shouldn’t have judged you. You should be able to do whatever you want. I mean, you can. Do whatever you want. You don’t need my permission, or anyone else’s. And I shouldn’t have made you feel bad about that. I’m sorry.’ He paused, and then chuckled. ‘I really admire your bravery, actually. Not everyone would just willingly do whatever Jasper Jordan told them to do.’

‘We went to a strip club last night.’

The look on his face was enough to send her spiraling into uncontrollable laughter. She had to set down her tea for fear of spilling it.

‘Wasn’t it Harper’s day?’

‘Yep.’

‘Wow.’

They let that sink in. The tension between them had completely diffused, and it felt like maybe, just maybe, they were on their way back to where they had been.

Clarke fought the thing deep down she’d buried that made her want for more.

‘I know I said I’m sorry, and I am, but I just need to put this out there too: I still want you to get treatment. Selfishly,’ he added with that classic, lopsided smile that was all Bellamy Blake, fierce and stubborn, protective and kind.

‘You’re not the only one,’ she laughed. ‘Raven made her case today.’

‘And you’re still not convinced?’ He shook his head, incredulous. ‘Either she’s lost her touch, or your willpower is stronger than I thought possible.’

‘Never underestimate me,’ she hummed, her eyes closing. She was fighting off the exhaustion from the night before, but the relief at having her best friend back made her want to sink back in her chair and never wake up again. She felt relaxed. At ease.

‘Alright, princess, let’s get you to bed.’ She felt a pair of strong arms gather her up and carry her inside. Gently, they laid her on the bed, pulled the sheets up to her chin, turned off the lights. She registered all of this in a haze, sure it had happened, but what she recalled next she assumed was part of a vague dream.

She felt lips brush her forehead, a murmured ‘Sleep well,’ and just as the door was closing, she could’ve sworn she heard something along the lines of ‘I love you, Clarke.’

But no, that was crazy.

It was crazy.

It was nothing. She was sure of it.

That night, everyone came over for a Mario Kart marathon. It was Jasper and Monty’s idea, and the girls (who had all spent most of their days in bed) were grateful it wasn’t something more extreme, or that required them to change out of their pajamas. Everyone brought snacks and they feasted on the stuff they used to binge in college, chips and Oreos, microwave burritos and homemade nachos. Clarke was usually the best, having claimed that in a past life she was a _Fast and Furious _driver, but tonight it was Lincoln’s turn to surprise. He held the top spot for the entirety of the night. No one, not even Octavia, who had tried to distract him to gain Clarke the advantage on Rainbow Road, could knock him off his pedestal. He earned it, and they celebrated in proper fashion: a toast. Clarke opted for water instead, as did Emori and Harper, but Raven and Octavia rallied and downed beers with the rest of the gang.

‘Well done,’ Clarke offered her hand to him, a symbol of sportsmanship.

He accepted it graciously. ‘Thank you.’

‘If I had to pass on my title to anyone, I’m glad it’s you,’ she added.

The nice thing about Lincoln was, whenever Clarke slipped up and made comments like that, he didn’t flinch. He was good for that. Accepting the bad. Moving on. And he would be good for Octavia too. Because Lord knew she was going to fight this the whole way.

‘You’re up next, by the way. Any idea what you’re going to make me do?’

‘I had a thought or two,’ He smirked knowingly. ‘Speaking of which, I’m gonna need you to stop by the gallery tomorrow. Think you can make it?’

‘Absolutely.’

She did not expect this.

There were no words for this.

‘So,’ Lincoln concluded, having given her a grand tour of the entire gallery, pausing to point out particular exhibitions of interest, or ones he thought she might enjoy perusing when she had more time. ‘Basically, we’re constantly looking for new artists, and I mentioned to my boss that I know someone who is incredibly talented and has a lot to say, but not a lot of time left to share her message. Octavia smuggled me your portfolio, so he got a chance to glance over some of your work, and he loves it. He wants you to exhibit some of it, here.’

She stared at him.

‘Only if you want. The offer is there, but I thought since you haven’t ever gotten to really share that passion outside of friends and family, it might be nice to have the public see some of it. Hear what you have to say.’

She kept staring.

‘Well, what do you think?’

If it was possible, she would’ve crushed him; as it stood, Lincoln was significantly taller, broader, and bulkier than Clarke, so all she managed was a fierce hug and a sob. ‘Thank you. Lincoln, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.’

‘It’d be in three weeks, and there’d be a viewing and everything that you can invite people to. So I was wondering, can we reschedule my day until then?’

‘Are you kidding? Yes, yes of course! Lincoln, this is the most thoughtful, craziest- you really didn’t have to do this!’

‘It’s for you, Clarke. Of course I did,’ He smiled, his hands clasped behind his back.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered.

‘Clarke, I don’t know what we’re going to do without you, but I’m really glad that Octavia brought you into my life. I think we’re all the better for knowing you, myself included.’

Well, she definitely didn't know what to say to that. 

But Clarke wasn't really sure knew what to say anymore, about anything. 


	5. Murphy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy :) 
> 
> As always, let me know what you think. I appreciate those of you have stayed with this, and welcome to new readers! 
> 
> Clarke struggles a lot coming to terms with her decision in this chapter. Especially when feelings arise for a certain someone...feelings she was sure she'd taken care of. She wants to go peacefully, but she's rethinking everything-all because she wants what's best for the people she loves. 
> 
> It gets dark, but then again, this whole fic is dark, so here's your warning :)
> 
> Chapter Playlist:   
Smother by Daughter  
Arsonist's Lullaby by Hozier   
The Only Thing Worth Fighting For by Lera Lynn

‘Hi Dad.’

She took a steadying breath.

She hadn’t been to see him in a long time. Curling up in one of his old sweaters she kept in a box in her closet, she let the musty scent envelop her, clinging to the hints of his spicy cologne and the old book smell that was so inexplicably Jake Griffin. She used to wander down aisles in libraries during the months after the accident, let her fingertips graze the plastic-sealed spines, stirring up dust and memories. He loved to read. She loved to climb into his lap and listen to his chest, air escaping slowly, evenly. At first, he’d read aloud to her. Once she was old enough, they would read together, Clarke turning the pages when she was done. He’d always sit in the same armchair next to the window. And long after she’d been sent to bed, he’d remain there. She’d sneak halfway down the stairs and catch his reflection, the stark silhouette of his shadow posed over an open book.

_‘Clarke,’ _he’d call after her. _‘Go back to bed.’_

She’d giggle and run back to the safety of her covers, imaging the calm, soft-spoken timber of his voice lulling her to sleep with tales of dragons and fairies.

She used to bring books with her to read to him.

Today she didn’t need one.

‘So, it’s back,’ she shuddered, a weight lifted. He’d passed well before her first battle with cancer. Never had to hold her hand or watch her suffer. She’d been incredibly grateful for that. No one should have to help their child through something like this. She saw it- the devastation, the pain, the guilt- in the faces of her patients’ parents every day, when she talked them through procedures. When she delivered bad news. She saw it in Abby and Marcus.

But telling him…it was like leaning on a shoulder for support. He was always there, without pity or judgement. She didn’t have to worry about burdening him. He was there to listen.

She knelt down by his gravestone, an elegant, white marble Abby had picked out. It was simple, the engraving. _Jake Griffin, Loving Husband, Caring Father, Loyal Friend. _

He would’ve liked it.

‘I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you,’ she sighed. ‘I resigned from the hospital. I thought you might like to know the money you left me is going to save a lot of lives.’ She laughed, shook her head. ‘You’re probably wondering what I’m doing with all my free time now? You know I like to be busy. And yes, I know, I get that from mom. Well …’

She knew she was stalling, avoiding what she really wanted to get off her chest. But she let herself. She indulged in describing every single detail of the past two weeks, down to the fight with Bellamy, the beach trips with Wells, even the strip club (although that she kept vague, he didn’t need to know _everything_). Finally, after what felt like hours of rattling and plucking grass, she sighed. The silence grew in what she still couldn’t bring herself to say.

‘You’ve probably figured it out by now. You’re pretty smart,’ – she could sense him rolling his eyes at that – ‘But I’m refusing treatment.

‘I think it’s the right thing to do. No one else does, of course. They think I should fight. But I did that already. And I’m just so tired. And I don’t want to spend this precious time I have left regretting that I didn’t do all the things I wanted to do. I just…okay, well, listing it off like that, those all sound like pretty lame excuses, but-’

_Are you doing what you want to do, Clarke? Or are you doing what you think will make others happy?_

Her father’s voice flooded her.

‘Dad?’ She felt tears threaten to spill and wiped away at them with the sleeve of his sweater.

Suddenly, Raven’s words from their talk crept in..._I would hate to see you spend these days doing all of these things for us, to make us happy, things you think we want, when all we really want is for you to fight so we can keep you…_

Everyone’s voices began to mix together, the words of encouragement, the pleas, the sobs, the questions, they all blurred in her mind, a chorus of disappointment and heartbreak, all demanding answers from her. _How much time do you have? I’m borrowing it already. Why aren’t you okay? What’s wrong with you? How could you do this to us? Please, Clarke, please. I want you to get treatment. I can’t. It’s not your day. The chances are…you might be able to…experimental…why won’t you just try? Why aren’t you okay? Why aren’t you okay? _**Why aren’t you okay?**

_What do _**you **_want, Clarke? _Her father asked, silencing the rest.

‘I don’t know!’ She cried out, burying her face in her hands. ‘I don’t know.’

But she did.

It’s just not what everyone else wanted.

‘I went to see him today. My dad.’

‘Oh yeah?’ Bellamy picked up the cutting board full of freshly chopped vegetables and slid them into the sauté pan easily. Clarke relished the satisfying sizzle.

‘Yeah,’ she stood at the island, shifting uncomfortably beneath the weight of what was left unsaid. He noticed, like always, but didn’t press her, just waited patiently. ‘It just…got me thinking.’

‘About?’ he was rummaging through the spice cabinet now, examining labels. They’d agreed to do mandatory family dinner one night a week when they’d all first became friends. As their schedules grew busier, it got harder and harder to arrange, but once a month they would manage to actually, miraculously all pull through. In light of Clarke’s diagnosis, dinners became more frequent. Tonight it was Bellamy’s turn to host and cook. He’d opted for fajitas. Clarke came over early to help and was supposed to be making the guacamole (absent-minded mashing is about all Bellamy trusted her to do in the kitchen, which was fair, but something she still got defensive about). The confusion brought on by that afternoon still haunted her, though, and she wanted to tell someone that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t so sure about refusing treatment. Maybe she wanted to look into other options…just to say she had. Just to get everyone else to finally accept her decision. Maybe if they knew nothing else would work, not even an experimental treatment…they’d let her go peacefully. The expectations would stop. They’d be okay. They’d move on, knowing nothing could have prevented the inevitable. Knowing her death wasn’t a choice, but a certainty.

‘Clarke,’ his voice snapped her out of her daze. ‘You know Murphy’s going to murder you if he comes in here and sees the state of those avocados.’

‘This is harder than it looks,’ she threw him a dangerous glare. ‘You stick to your saucepan over there.’

‘So, you went to see your dad?’

‘Yeah, I…’ she paused. ‘Yeah, it was nice.’

He stared at her for a minute, reading something in the way she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She hated how he did that. ‘Did something happen?’

‘No,’ she answered too quickly. _Damn it._

He turned to her, arms crossed, spatula in hand. ‘Did it?’

She shook her head. Sighing quietly, he unfolded himself and returned to the stove. She didn’t want to talk about it. He wasn’t going to keep asking. That was their unspoken rule. He didn’t push unless he thought she needed it, and that wasn’t very often. Especially in the past two weeks.

Sometimes she wished he would.

She watched the way his muscles moved beneath his shirt, the way his back arched, his arms flexed, the way his neck tensed when he realized she was watching him, but didn’t say anything. How his dark curls fell into his eyes. How he bit his lip lightly in concentration. She thought of his fingertips grazing the bare skin at her back, on her waist, along her neck. Thought of his lips, where she wanted them most. His hands-

‘How’s that guacamole coming along?’

‘It’s fine, Bellamy,’ She swallowed her cry of frustration, rolling her eyes. What was she doing? He was her best friend. Sure, she’d thought about him like this before. But lately, it took everything in her not to seize the moment and kiss him senseless. What was happening to her? To them? Since her diagnosis, every minute with him was…impassioned. They fought like they used to. They stared at each other like they used to, as if weighing whether or not they were going to rip the other’s clothes off or their throat out. The easy peace between them was gone. Now it was all fervor and impatience and words that meant more. She’d had a taste of the calm when they finally talked on the terrace after their hiatus. But since then, it’d returned to the heat. Their fight during laser tag had broken something open, wide, and left a rift for the feelings she’d suppressed for so long to leak through.

_No. _She wouldn’t let them. She stuffed them back inside, shaking her head.

A smirk formed. ‘You want to try it, make sure it’s not too salty?’

‘Sure,’ he dried off his hands and walked over, completely oblivious. She grabbed a spoon, dipped it into the green mush, and just as she was about to hand it to him, surprised him by smearing it on his cheek instead.

‘There. That’ll teach you to question my cooking,’ She brushed past him with the bowl confidently.

She waited to hear his angry rant. _Clarke, really? Are you five? That’s so immature. You just wasted some perfectly good-_

Suddenly, she sensed him behind her, his figure tall and imposing. Reaching around her slowly, she tried to quiet her racing heart as his arm grazed hers. His lips moved to hover above her neck; shivers danced where his breath met with her skin. She watched as he dipped his fingers in the bowl, reached up, and painted a long streak of green along her jaw.

‘Two can play at that game,’ he whispered, but didn’t move away.

_Breathe. _Her body ached for him to close the distance, to just do it. There seemed to be a challenge issued in the lilt of her brow as she replied calmly, refusing to face him, ‘Some would see that as an act of war.’

‘Oh?’ he whispered. He was too close. Entirely too close. She couldn’t think straight. ‘And what are you going to do about it?’

She stood there. Let his breath warm the back of her neck. Closed her eyes.

The energy in the room shifted from playful to tense, electric. She wanted to grab him, pull him down to her, let him push her up against the counter. She wanted him to hoist her up by the waist so that her legs could wrap around him, so that her fingers could tangle in his dark curls, so that her tongue could explore the roof of his mouth. She wanted to bite at his pulse point and leave a mark there, a mark that was shaped like her lips and made him _hers._

Her breath caught in her throat as his hand lightly traced the veins of her wrist, gently tugging to turn her around. She found herself moving slowly, heart pounding, unable to meet his eyes.

Their bodies were flush, and she couldn’t help but notice how perfectly they fit together. They always had.

For a moment, no one spoke. Bellamy’s head was bent forward, his hands rested on either side of her hips. Their lips were mere inches apart. Their shared breaths heavy.

Biting her lip, Clarke finally raised her gaze to meet his. There was something dark, predatory, a longing that ran deep and, she suspected, mirrored her own. Bellamy leaned forward slightly. Her eyes fluttered closed. 

_This is happening. This is happening. This is happening. _Clarke tried to calm her racing heart, but fear won out.

‘Something like,’ Reaching behind her, she grabbed the trigger on the faucet and proceeded to douse the front of Bellamy’s shirt. ‘_That.’_

His eyes flew open in surprise. ‘Clarke, what the-’ He wrung out his shirt, now sopping wet, and she couldn’t help but notice the flash of skin, the planes of hardened abs beneath. She needed to douse herself in water. _Stop it. _

‘Don’t start something with me,’ she warned as she returned the sprayer to the sink and picked up the guacamole. ‘-that you don’t intend to finish.’

They both stared at each other, then, trying to decipher what she meant by the veiled threat. It was clear she wasn’t talking about a food fight.

‘Clarke-’ Bellamy took a step closer, only to be interrupted by a horrified noise from the doorway.

‘What the fuck are you two doing in here?’ Murphy guffawed dramatically as he took in the state of Clarke’s sad attempt at making something of still-ripe avocados. ‘What _is _that? And what’s that smell? Are you cooking fajitas or burning them?!’ He jumped to the stove, removing the pan from heat.

Pinching his nose, Murphy quickly slipped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves as Bellamy tried to apologize. ‘No, no-’ he waved a hand to silence him. ‘You two, go clean yourselves up. I’ll salvage…_this.’_

‘Thanks, Murphy.’

‘Shhhhh. Let the master work.’

As Clarke hurriedly rushed to the bathroom, avoiding Bellamy’s questioning glance, she heard Murphy call out, ‘By the way, Griffin, it’s my turn next! Tomorrow! You better be ready!’

‘Can’t wait!’ She shut the door definitively, before Bellamy could follow.

Splashing cold water on her face, she leaned over the sink and stared at her reflection. _What the hell had just happened? _She’d wanted Bellamy for so long, but didn’t want to risk telling him and ruining their friendship. She never thought…

No It was too late. It was too late. She was dying. And what was worse, she was choosing to do nothing about it. She couldn’t do that to him. They couldn’t.

She ignored him the rest of the night.

Or, at least, she tried.

Once they’d all settled down to watch whatever film Miller was raving about that week, Clarke realized too late there was an open spot next to her on the couch. One that, she guessed, was not left purposefully, but unconsciously. Bellamy was still cleaning up in the kitchen. Their friends always partnered up, and there was never a question of who sat next to who. They all sort of fell together. And Bellamy was always next to Clarke. Always.

When he entered the room, she shifted beneath the blankets. Normally, he never hesitated to join her. He paused for a moment now. No one noticed except for Clarke. And Octavia.

‘Bell, come on, it’s starting!’ she waved him over to the couch. ‘Don’t just stand there! Get comfy!’

He sat as far from Clarke as he possibly could.

Once the action in the movie intensified, though, they both relaxed.

Clarke was acutely aware of his body next to hers. The heat from the kitchen was still there. She thought she might drown in it.

At one point, she wasn’t sure when exactly, she found herself unable to resist the urge any longer. Her hand, hidden by the blanket she was curled up under, slowly crept along the cushion until it found his, draped casually over his lap. He didn’t look over at her. Nothing about his expression changed. But his fingers wound easily into hers.

They remained like that for the entire movie.

She couldn’t have told you what it was about if she tried. He’d held her hand before, but this. This was different. This was a statement. A promise.

_ **So, you gonna tell me what we’re doing today?** _

Clarke had woken up to a blank phone screen. She was supposed to spend the day with Murphy, but it was already late morning and she still hadn’t heard from him.

Wells was spending the day at his apartment, catching up on work, and Marcus was out of town again, leaving Abby to do the same. Bellamy was holed away at his favorite coffee shop grading papers. They’d retreated into silent treatment again, only this time it was one-sided. She just couldn’t face what had almost happened between them, not until she had a better grasp on her feelings, so his texts went unanswered. She knew she was being unfair and selfish. But every time she went to respond, she found herself struggling for words. When had their relationship become so hard?

_When you decided you were in love with him, stupid._

She’d never admitted it, not even to herself, but that’s what it was, wasn’t it?

_I don’t know! _She wanted to scream. Was it that? Or was it that she’d realized she’d never genuinely loved or been loved by someone deeply? Lexa was a college relationship turned tragically sour. Finn was a disaster. The others were flings. Was she scared to die without knowing that kind of love? Was she suddenly chasing it with Bellamy because he was convenient? Or did she honestly feel that way about him? Either way, encouraging it was only going to hurt them both. She didn’t want to use him, or break their hearts just because she was lonely and terrified.

A beep from her phone distracted her.

_ **Outside.** _

Clarke shook her head, peering out the window. Sure enough, Murphy was there, hands stuffed into his pockets, leaning against…a limousine?

_ **What. Is. That.** _

_ **Our ride.** _

Throwing her bag over her shoulder and grabbing her keys, Clarke practically ran down the stairs of her apartment. She stared, wide-eyed, at the black stretch of car hugging the pavement, Murphy’s smug smirk framed by his signature, tousled hair.

‘What have you done?’ She approached him cautiously.

‘Well,’ he patted the limo affectionately. ‘This baby is ours for the day. And so is this,’ he flashed the pot at her quickly. It was enough to keep them going for _hours. _‘I figured, let’s get high, see what happens. The driver will take us wherever we want to go. Sky’s the limit,’ He gave her a serious look. ‘And I mean that. There will be absolutely _no _skydiving, got it? No matter how much you beg.’

‘Once is enough for me,’ Clarke laughed. ‘Let’s go.’

They spent the entire day riding around the city in a limo. It couldn’t have been more perfect, or more Murphy.

The guy talked a big game, but that’s all it was. Talk. Deep down, he was sensitive and sweet. That’s what she loved most about him. They could go back and forth, trading rude, sarcastic comments, but they could also be real with each other. He’d put it to her straight, no matter what. He never sugarcoated anything, and out of everyone in their friend group, Clarke felt most herself around him, even Bellamy. With Murphy, she didn’t have to pretend everything was okay. She could own up to her situation absolutely sucking, and not feel bad about it. It was easy with him to get too wrapped up in the negatives, though, and that’s why she pushed him to see a bright side every once in a while, for his own good. But for the most part, they understood each other on a level the others didn’t.

He was just what she needed. A tonic for all the confusion. He could cut through the bullshit and get right to the heart. It was his superpower.

After lighting up in the backseat, Murphy directed the driver to take them to the nearest grocery store. They stocked up on all their favorite snacks, made a fortress of junk food in the limo. For a while, they just enjoyed driving around. They made sure to press all of the buttons, much to the annoyance of the driver, and discovered both the sunroof and the secret disco setting, which made the interior flash with neon lights and pulsating techno music. Clarke stuck half of her body out of the roof and yelled at the top of her lungs, the wind whipping at her face. They flashed a few passing cars. Murphy made them pull over at a dollar store, and they loaded up on the stupidest, tackiest shit they could find. The back of the limo became a photo booth, then. They stopped for street tacos, they stopped at the beach. Clarke even made Murphy stop at a café where you could dine with cats. Whatever random idea popped into their heads, they pursued it. It was silly and spontaneous and made Clarke forget everything she was struggling with.

Partway through the afternoon, they’d ended up upside down in the backseat. Their hair fell in pools around their heads. Clarke’s big, green sunglasses hung haphazardly on her forehead, and Murphy’s choked on a few pink feathers from his boa. They’d been laughing uncontrollably a moment ago, about what Clarke couldn’t remember, but settled soon into comfortable silence.

Suddenly, Murphy pulled a confetti popper, and bright pieces of paper snowed around them.

‘Beautiful,’ Clarke watched with wonder.

‘You’re so high,’ Murphy chuckled.

She nudged him with her elbow. ‘_You’re _so high.’

‘Clarke,’ he said more seriously, playing with one of the fluttery strips he’d managed to catch. ‘I know you’ve talked about it already, but I need to know the truth. For real. Why won’t you get treatment?’

She sighed. Stared at the ceiling. They were on their way to a roller-skating rink. It’d been Clarke’s idea, and she wasn’t sure how they’d handle staying upright, but as soon as she saw there was an 80s-themed happy hour, it was settled. ‘I’ve been thinking about it a lot.’

‘Yeah?’

‘I went to see my dad,’ she’d never gotten around to telling Bellamy, but now felt like the right time. Murphy, the right person. ‘And I just had this moment…Murphy, the treatment’s never gonna work.’

‘But-’

‘I’ve looked into it. Trust me- if there was a way that I could stay with you all longer...the risk isn’t worth it. I know I sound like a coward. But it’s something I’ve really thought about. This treatment they’re talking about…it’s just prolonging the inevitable, but not in a good way. In a way that involves a lot of hurt, a lot of separation. I’d have to leave you all, relocate. And in my case…the success rate is low. Like, it-would-take-a-miracle-low.

‘And I considered it. Because I know it would make you all happy, if I fought this. But I wouldn’t be fighting it. Not really. I would just look like I’m fighting it. And you know I would do it in a heartbeat for all of you. But it’s not what I want. I want moments like this-’ she took his hand in hers, squeezed it. ‘I’m not scared. I thought I was, but I’m not. I’ve accepted it. And it would help me if you could all accept it, too. I know it’s a big ask. It’s a lot.’

He was quiet for a long time. Then: ‘But we can do that for you. Well, maybe not all of us. But I know I can. Because I know you’d do the same for me.’ After another moment: ‘Doesn’t mean I won’t miss you.’

Tears started to rim her eyes. She wiped them away with her sleeve and whispered, ‘Thank you.’

They felt the limo pull to a stop. Clambering out of the back, they stumbled to the roller-skating rink. Murphy wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

For the first time since her diagnosis, she felt seen. Heard. Not like she was a disappointment, or a source of pain. 

Like she'd been freed, just a little bit, of the guilt.

Like maybe she wouldn't only leave behind misery for those she loved. 


End file.
